Goblin Blood Runs Black
by QueenofConstellations
Summary: A case of a goblin strike brought Draco and Hermione together to solve the problem. Once they think they fixed it, however, someone starts trying to stop the legislation. Goblins are being hurt, and Draco and Hermione are being blackmailed. Not giving in to the blackmailer will ruin their lives, but giving in dooms the goblins. Which will they choose?
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Apologies for the one follow I had before I deleted this chapter to edit it. Turns out the borders I had between points of view had been deleted when I uploaded the chapter. Anyway, I'm working on fixing that and adding a little bit to the story, and then the first chapter will be uploaded again._

_Disclaimer: Everything used herein is a derivative of JKR's world of Harry Potter and the lore surrounding it. Some things may be different, but that does not make it mine._

**Chapter One: The Goblin's Appeasement**

The sky often changed color based on your perspective. If you were lying on your back, staring up into the great abyss of clouds and inevitable blackness of space, the sky was an eerily light blue. Some could argue this was because of the reflection of the water by the sun, and others would claim that it was so light blue because you had been staring at the sun for too long and everything looked naturally brighter. But that almost white-light blue brought to mind the inevitable lightness of being; the-war-was-over optimism.

To some people, the sky was cerulean, the color of a loved one's eyes. It brought on a pensive sigh and a settling of one's nerves. It was the color of memories that could never be retrieved or that might forever continue.

Others saw the sky as gray, melancholic and dreary, the color of coming rain. It meant inevitable change, the future of one's life that was already determined. The gray stood for the end of the life as you knew it. The color of absolute indifference by the creator that may or may not exist as you whined about how unfair life is.

Sometimes the sky looked pink, or orange, or even black. It was hard to tell, really. We all only have our own perspective; we can only speculate everyone else's.

To Draco Malfoy, the sky was gray.

To Hermione Granger, the sky was blue.

To everyone else, the sky was almost white.

**~GBRB~GBRB~**

"Cassandra, can you get me the files on the Gringott's strike and put Shaklebolt on the phone?" Draco Malfoy called from his office. "I might have solved our goblin problem," he continued, almost to himself.

Cassandra did not reply, but the sound of rummaging through filing cabinets told Draco that she was doing as she was bid. It had been only three years since the end of the war, and Draco Malfoy had only begun to regain his footing in the adult world, a post-war mess that was slowly starting to come together through the help of the Ministry of Magic and the veterans of war.

He had been in Azkaban prison for the first year, and evidence of his incarceration was still evident in the lines of his hands and face. His blonde hair was a little thinner than it had been before prison, but he was slowly starting to put weight back on his frame, along with his own version of lean muscle.

When his sentence was over, he was approached by Kingsley Shacklebolt and asked to take up the helm of Malfoy Industries, since his mother and father were both still in Azkaban. His mother would be released in a few years, but his father was there for life. He had reluctantly agreed, and had quickly become entangled with the politics of the Ministry of Magic.

He was not a natural politician, but he was charming enough, and his need to make up to the Wizarding World the trouble he had caused made him an advantageous asset. He still was not as well liked as he would have enjoyed, but everyone would come around, he assured himself.

They had to.

Cassandra poked her head in the door, waving the aforementioned file at him. He nodded and pointed at the desk as a memo came flying in around her head. It landed gracefully next to his empty coffee cup.

He opened it carefully, scanning its contents quickly before placing the file on Gringotts on top of it. The goblins of Gringotts, outraged at the treatment of goblins during the war, had been threatening to go on strike for the past six months unless they received higher pay. Unfortunately for the Ministry and the goblins, the Wizarding World in Britain was less than accommodating with funds, seeing as they did not have much.

They had been on strike for almost four months now, and Draco finally found a solution. Cassandra beeped his phone to alert him to Kingsley Shacklebolt on the line, and he scooped up the receiver with little thought.

"Minister," he greeted shortly. "I think I have your solution."

Kingsley let out a breath. "That's comforting, Mr. Malfoy, enlighten me," his deep voice rumbled.

Draco flipped quickly through the file. "Well, I see here that we have very little revenue coming into the bank while we work on renovating Hogwarts and other buildings demolished during the war. However, we have also been using considerable resources to round up the last of the Death Eaters.

"My possible solution is to use the confiscated property and belongings and create a fund for the goblins. We won't be able to do much with the property we get anyway. We can use the old houses to create small goblin-centered communities where they can live together, like we do for wizards." Draco was rapidly becoming excited at the prospect of solving this huge problem. "The Death Eaters will go to Azkaban for life; their property and riches are forfeit. Take those riches and make a fund to pay the goblins their elevated wage."

Kingsley was silent, but Draco could feel him thinking. He started fidgeting, dog-earing the pages of the file and twirling his coffee cup while Kingsley continued to mull over the possibilities.

"It sounds like this is a very real possibility," Kingsley finally said. Draco sighed in relief. "Send me the specs and I'll ship them over to their representation."

"Will it have my name on it?" Draco asked, suddenly apprehensive.

Kingsley sounded like he chuckled. "Of course, Mr. Malfoy. Why, is that an issue?"

Draco felt nervous flutters settle into his stomach. "No, but I would like to take this to the goblin's representative myself, if that's okay."

Now he could almost feel Kingsley's smirk. "Whatever you think is best, Mr. Malfoy. Keep me updated."

**~GBRB~GBRB~**

Hermione Granger was not used to leaving work early. In fact, she was pretty sure she had never done that before today. She surveyed Diagon Alley, her current location, and tried to determine exactly which restaurant she would decide to eat dinner in.

She found herself in this routine a lot as of late. She would wake up early, charm her hair so it was manageable, put on very little makeup, get dressed, and go to work. Once there, she would bury herself in the memos and paperwork that filled her office almost every day and would not look up until her stomach protested a lack of food. After lunch, she returned to her desk and often did not leave until long after dark. Then she would meander Diagon Alley until she found a food establishment open to eat in. She did not cook and she knew her boyfriend had not made food at home. So she was often eating alone.

She found she liked it that way; it gave her a chance to dwell on the events of the day. Now that September was rolling around again, she wished more and more to have a companion on her late dinners. She found when the Hogwarts Express was pulling away from the station, she was more nostalgic than usual.

"Bleu Bistro is a good choice," answered a voice she knew all too well.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she replied without turning around. Her voice was not unfriendly, but it certainly wasn't friendly.

He stepped forward, better to be included in her line of sight, and nodded in the direction of the proffered restaurant. "Let me treat you to dinner while we talk about it."

Hermione gave him an incredulous stare. "Do you actually use that line on people?" she asked.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "That's not what I meant, Granger. This isn't about pleasure, it's business."

Hermione cocked her head, suddenly intrigued. Conceding curiosity, she let Malfoy lead her to a small restaurant that leaked quiet French music onto the street. They were directed to a small table outside. Hermione settled in and ordered a glass of wine while Malfoy tilted his head back and looked at the sky, as though he was looking for something he lost. She watched him for a few minutes, taking in his nice suit and silver tie. He looked like typical Malfoy with an inexplicable lack of dress robes.

"Malfoy?" Hermione asked, prompting him to turn back to her. "Why am I here?"

"How have you been?" he asked instead, his eyes suddenly boring into her. "You and Weasley doing well?"

Hermione's face twitched only infinitesimally. "We're fine," she answered dismissively. In truth, she and Ron were only barely speaking. They had been living together for almost two years now. Hermione found herself resentful that in those two years, Ron had yet to find a window to propose to her. Not that she was really supposed to be pushing him but…he talked to Harry all the time about it, and Harry would tell her, but no matter how much Ron talked about it, he never did it. Hermione had become angry, and started snapping at him for no reason.

Now, they avoided each other, Hermione leaving for work early in the morning, and not returning until late at night, and Ron staying out all day and night coaching Quidditch so that when he came home, Hermione would be asleep and they would not have to argue.

It was a holding pattern, at best, and their relationship was slowly deteriorating into something like weird, awkward roommates who didn't know what to do with each other.

Malfoy seemed to sense something like that, because he dropped it. "And Potter and the other Weasley?"

Hermione scoffed. "She's Potter now too, in case you missed the whole spread in _Witch Weekly._"

"You don't sound happy about that," Malfoy pointed out.

Hermione hastened to correct herself. "I am, I am, I'm just…what am I doing here, Malfoy?" she asked again.

In response, he reached down to the briefcase she didn't remember him having and pulled out a file she recognized instantly. "No, no way," she said. "I am not negotiating with the likes of you!"

Hurt momentarily registered on Malfoy's face before he covered it. "Don't be stupid, Granger, you've been negotiating with the 'likes of me' for weeks now, and I think I finally solved the problem," his fingers carved out the air quotes for his sarcastic rendition of her voice. "Just look at it."

Just as Hermione was opening her mouth angrily to respond, the waiter sidled up to the table and asked for their dinner orders. Malfoy ordered quail and Hermione ordered chicken before they effectively returned to their sparring match.

Hermione, against her better judgments, opened the file to read. Periodically, she would sneak a glance up at Malfoy.

He gave her the dignity of reading without his eyes on her, choosing instead to watch the other patrons or cast thoughtful looks to the sky again. Every now and then, his eyes would flick down to hers, as though admonishing her for not reading fast enough.

He looked older now, Hermione mused as she read. His face had a few premature lines, his hair was less boyish. All in all, he looked like a man who had been on the run and was only just settling down again. His suit was still impeccable, in true Malfoy fashion, but he didn't quite fill it out the way he used to.

And his terms were generous, Hermione noticed. He was offering almost ten percent more than what the goblins had been asking for, and he was more than willing to do so, she could see it in the apprehension he tried to hide. He wanted to solve this, and solve it well.

Finally, she set the file down. She had barely managed to hand it back to him before their food arrived. As she unwrapped her silverware and draped her napkin across her lap, she gave him an appraising look.

"I like it," she said finally. "Never would have expected that from you."

"I aim to surprise," he said dryly.

She rewarded him with a small laugh. "Lighten up, Malfoy, I'm done being hostile. Your terms are generous, and I'm sure the goblins will accept. Relax, and eat your dinner."

Malfoy looked immensely relieved and dug into his quail without further argument. She watched him closely, the way she had while she was reading. Though he was scrawny, his movements were still as graceful as she remembered, and he ate at a leisurely pace, unlike Ron's usual garbage disposal antics.

"So, Malfoy," she asked after a few minutes of silence. "How did you come to work with the Gringotts strike?"

Malfoy dabbed his mouth with his napkin before responding. "I was asked to take over Malfoy Industries when I was released from prison," he began, flinching a little over the word 'prison.' "Turns out that I was pretty good at it, once I got used to it. So other companies started asking me for advice on their own problems. My family has some stock in Gringotts, and one of my childhood friends owns a large part of it. He asked me specifically to help him appease the goblins."

Hermione was impressed. "And you just did it?"

Malfoy looked affronted. "I know it sounds weird to you, Granger, but I do like to do nice things for my friends."

Hermione gave him a sarcastic smile. "Well, we were never friends, Malfoy, so how would I know that?"

"Maybe if you gave me a chance instead of stereotyping me, then I could prove it to you," he said, only a little anger in his words.

Hermione surveyed him closely, trying to determine if he was truly hurt or only joking. When she determined that his statement was genuine, her face softened. "I'm sorry, Malfoy," she said. "School enmity doesn't always just disappear."

Malfoy gave her a half-hearted sneer. "You don't have to tell me. The only one of your whole group that even dares speak to me is Bill."

Hermione looked surprised. "Bill Weasley?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Do you know another Bill?"

Hermione ignored him. "I didn't even know he was in town."

"He hasn't been, not for a while, but he helped me learn a little bit about the goblins before he left," Malfoy reasoned. "He was actually decent, though I expected anyone would be better than your boyfriend. Or is he your fiancé now?"

Hermione looked down at her plate and stabbed her chicken violently with her fork. "He's…he's whatever," she said blandly.

Malfoy gave her a narrow eyed look. He supposed she was prettier than he had given her credit for in school. Her hair was long, and it looked like the heaviness of her hair had tamed it somewhat. Her big, round eyes spoke of innocence and knowledge, and her face had thinned, showing off very delicate bone structure. Her Muggle business clothes complemented his; her black pencil skirt and blazer with a dark gray shirt and black shoes were chic but sensible. The look on her face, however, distracted him from her aesthetically pleasing attributes.

"Granger, don't you know how to navigate dinner conversation? That is not a statement I can reply to," he said, trying to tease her.

She threw a roll at him. "Quit being a prat."

"Then try conversationalism," he said. "Come on, what did Weasel do? I love these stories."

"It's none of your business," Hermione said, crossing her arms.

Malfoy matched her pose. "Because telling these stories to your other friends is probably way more helpful, right?" he asked sarcastically.

Hermione gave him an annoyed look, but sighed and let the story rush out. "Fine. We're both busy, and he's always working late, and I'm always working late. We hardly ever see each other, and he always talks about proposing but he never does. It's frustrating."

Malfoy nodded understandingly. "Well, count your blessings, Granger. You don't want to marry that guy."

"You're so helpful."

The waiter swooped in again with the check, and Malfoy snatched it from his hands before Hermione could get it. He passed the waiter the coins and addressed her again. "I'm not kidding. He talks about proposing but never does it, right? That sounds like he's commitment-phobic. The least of your problems once you got married would be his inability to decide anything. You don't want to marry a guy like that, especially since you're completely knowledgeable about pretty much everything. Someone who won't make a decision and stick with it will drive you nuts.

"And he's a Quidditch coach, right? I mean, that's what I've heard." Hermione nodded. "Then he has no reason to be gone all night. Once it's dark, you can't see the pitch, and there's absolutely no reason to be practicing anymore. That means that he's definitely doing something other than Quidditch practice. Gambling or killing people, no doubt."

Hermione scoffed, but Malfoy held up his hand to continue. "You have a fulfilling job, and he has a part-time one. It is up to him to try to work around your schedule sometimes. He's being a selfish prat, which, in my experience with Weasley, is not new. He's been your best friend for forever, that doesn't mean he'll make a good husband. You've never even tried to go outside of your comfort zone to find happiness; you want to settle for him because your fourteen-year-old heart told you it was the best idea. Not that you'll find out, since he apparently never wants to propose. Besides, you already have bushy hair, do you really want kids with bushy _red_ hair?"

Hermione, who had been listening carefully to everything he said, had to laugh at his last comment before the rest of his evidence sobered her. "I'm surprised you know so much about relationships, Malfoy."

Draco was surprised with himself. He wasn't knowledgeable about relationships; in fact, he was probably the kiss of death for any relationship. But he found himself vehemently defending Hermione's uncertainties about Ron Weasley. He could not tell if it was because he loathed Weasel more than he hated almost anything else or because Hermione looked completely wretched when she talked about him.

Malfoy shrugged. "I don't. But you accepted my proposal for the goblins, I figured some advice was my payment. Oh, and dinner." he stood and offered her the door. She took it and he followed her back onto the street.

"I'll take this to the goblins," Hermione said. "Thank you for dinner…and…the other thing," she said. A troubled look had taken over her face, and she felt consumed by thoughts of Ron and their relationship. Malfoy's statement of what Ron could be doing had stuck in her mind, and she knew it was significant. Was he cheating? Or was he deliberately staying out to get away from her?

Malfoy seemed to sense her unease and gave her a rare half-smile.

"Okay, call my office when you have an answer," he said. "Chin up, Granger."

And he was gone, melting into the night that looked so much like the night sky.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: There's not much for me to say here, but I feel rude if I don't have one so…here's one._

_Disclaimer: Everything I use is JKR's, and she's an inspiration to us all, but she does not bestow upon us ownership._

**Chapter Two: Against Better Judgement**

Hermione managed to make it back to her and Ron's flat before him. Malfoy's long-winded reasoning behind not marrying Ron replayed in her mind as she went through her nightly routine robotically. She thought about the possibilities of Ron having a secret as she brushed her unruly hair and tied it in a bun. She thought about his commitment issues as she meticulously brushed her teeth. She almost shed a tear over the reality that her relationship with Ron was nothing more than a husk of what it had been as she dug through her drawers to find pajamas.

As she settled in to sleep, she realized that she wouldn't be able to, not while she was thinking like this. With a great sigh that could have moved mountains, she padded to her fireplace, grabbed a handful of Floo powder, and stepped in, calling out the name of Harry Potter's home.

He was sitting at a desk, writing a letter when she slid into his living room. He started, almost upsetting his quill and ink bottle. At the sight of one of his best friends, his face broke into a wide smile and he swept her into a hug, squeezing her tight.

"'Mione!" he said as excitedly as he could while being quiet. "What brings you over so late?"

Hermione smiled at the tired happiness that filled Harry's face. "I'm sorry, I should've owled you first, but I couldn't sleep and –"

Harry cut her off with a quiet laugh. "Don't worry about it. I was up anyway. It's Ginny's turn to sleep, and James should be waking up any minute now for a late night feeding," he glanced momentarily over his shoulder to his sleeping child in the next room. "I need something to help keep me awake."

"Do you know where Ron is?" Hermione asked suddenly, and clapped her hand over her mouth. "Oh, Harry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ask you that. I mean, I came to visit you but Ron is never home and I'm so tired of being alone and, well, do you know where he is?"

Harry gave her a sympathetic and wry smile. "You know Ron, probably at some pub telling anyone who'll listen the escapades of the war," he motioned for Hermione to take a seat. "It's what he does."

"Why does he still do that?" Hermione asked bitterly as she took the proffered couch. "It was all so horrible."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "But I would assume it's his way of coping, you know? We all have our ways. I threw myself into a family of my own, you bury yourself in work and Ron…"

"Ron gallivants around, shouting tales at people who don't want to hear them?" Hermione finished bitingly.

Harry shrugged. "I try not to begrudge him his coping mechanisms, but yeah."

"Do you think he's cheating on me?" Hermione asked, feeling sheepish.

Harry looked taken aback. "I don't think Ron has that in him, to be honest," he said. "I know he does a lot of stupid things, but he's always been faithful, right?"

Hermione, feeling foolish, nodded as a tear slipped from her eye. Harry, noticing his friend's distress, snaked an arm around her shoulders and brought her close. "Don't cry about this. It's just a rough patch."

"He doesn't love me anymore," Hermione said, more tears sneaking down her face as Harry comforted her. "I know it."

Harry rubbed soothing circles in her back as she cried. "He does love you," he said. "I just don't think he loves you the way you need him to."

Hermione pulled away, wiping her eyes. "So what do I do?"

Harry gave her a bracing smile. "You talk to him about it, 'Mione. Tell him what's upsetting you. If worst comes to worse, you've always been great friends."

A new wave of tears swept through Hermione and she sobbed against Harry, who patted her on the back. A quiet shuffling and the sounds of a hungry baby roused Harry from his post.

"I'll be right back," he promised. Hermione waved him away and watched as he scooped up his son, cradling him close against his chest. Baby James cooed happily as Harry plopped the prepared bottle in his little mouth, closing his eyes as he ate. Harry, bouncing his baby, bobbed his way back to Hermione, who was watching with a faint smile on her face.

"He looks just like you," she said quietly, unwilling to wake the baby.

Harry gave her a proud smile. "One day, you'll get to do this too," he swore. "And maybe your baby won't have red hair, but you'll never know unless you communicate," he looked down at his baby, who was rapidly falling asleep again.

"I'm going to go put him down. Why don't you sleep here tonight?" Harry asked. Hermione's eyes, tired from crying, were already sliding closed. She nodded absently and leaned back into the couch. By the time Harry had returned from putting James back in his crib, Hermione was sound asleep. With a smile, Harry pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and placed it gently over her.

**~GBRB~GBRB~**

Hermione awoke the next morning disoriented. Belatedly, she remembered where she was. She rubbed her bleary eyes with the palms of her hands and stretched, surveying the room. The warm home was dominated by browns and creams and colorful blankets strewn on almost every surface that could be sat on. The sound of something sizzling in a pan caught her attention and she found herself yawning and stumbling into the spacious kitchen.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Ginny said cheerfully, still in her nightclothes, as she flipped bacon. "I'm making breakfast for you and my still-sleeping husband. Do you like your bacon cooked or burnt?"

"Burnt," Hermione said through a yawn as she plopped into a chair. "Thank you, Ginny."

Ginny gave her a half-smile as she flicked her wand. A cup of tea appeared in front of Hermione, who groaned happily. "You'll find that when you have a baby, you're maternal for everyone," she said. "Also, I just had the best sleep I've ever had since I got pregnant, so I'm in a good mood."

Hermione sipped her tea gratefully. "I'm glad."

"But that's not the case for you, is it Miss Brightest Witch of her Age?" Ginny asked as she broke a couple of eggs in the pan. "Harry mentioned that you were upset with Ron."

Hermione shrugged. Ginny laughed, trying to keep the conversation light. "I know that you love him, and he's my brother, I love him too, but you can do so much better."

Hermione was surprised. "I thought you always wanted me to be family."

Ginny looked incredulous. "Please, 'Mione, you're already family. That doesn't hinge on Ron," she placed a plate of eggs and bacon in front of Hermione. "Besides, Ron isn't mature yet. Just because you guys take a break for now, if you decide to do that," she hastened as Hermione opened her mouth, "you can always get back together when he's more of a long-term guy."

Hermione found sound reasoning in that, but didn't want to say so. "But what if he dates someone else while we're apart?"

"That's the idea," Ginny said as she poured herself a cup of coffee. "Why would you want to marry your first?" she asked. "Go out and date a couple other blokes so you know what you like."

"You married Harry when you were eighteen," Hermione pointed out.

"But I dated plenty of other men at Hogwarts before Harry," Ginny pointed out. "I knew my tastes and what I wanted by the time the war was over."

Hermione sipped her tea again, unsure of what to say. Ginny placed a hand on her friend's shoulder as she nibbled a piece of bacon. "Look, I'm not going to tell you what to do when it comes to my git of a brother," she said. "But I want to make sure that you're seeing all of your options instead of focusing on the worst possible outcome."

"I don't do that!" Hermione protested.

Ginny gave her a smirk as Harry plodded into the kitchen, looking like a zombie. "You do, but that's okay." She passed him a plate of food and a cup of coffee. "Good morning, my love," she said, kissing his cheek. He smiled and kissed her back in his half-asleep daze.

Hermione envied them. She envied all happy couples. Sighing, she stood and placed her dirty dishes in the sink, flicking her wand to wash them. "I should go to work," she said, looking down at her clothes. Ginny snickered. "I should go get dressed and then go to work," she amended.

She hugged Ginny and kissed the top of Harry's head. "Thank you two for being the best friends I could ever have," she said sincerely. "I love you guys."

Ginny gave her a wink. "Come on by for dinner tonight," she said. "James would like to see his godmother when he's awake."

With a promise to stop by for dinner, Hermione flooed back to her flat to change. Ron, as usual, was already gone, but his dirty dishes were in the sink. Resolving to let Ron take care of himself for once, Hermione left his dishes there and went to shower.

**~GBRB~GBRB~**

Draco Malfoy was waiting at the Floo when she made it to work, freshly showered. He wordlessly held out a coffee, double espresso, she thought as she flinched against the warmth against her tongue. She gave him a questioning look.

"I wanted to see if you would be interested in letting me meet the goblins today," he said calmly, not looking nervous in the least.

Hermione looked down at the cup of coffee in her hand. "And you thought bribing me with insane amounts of caffeine would turn the tide in your favor?" she asked.

Malfoy's raised eyebrows answered the affirmative.

"Fine," she said, eliciting a smile. "You can meet them, but you will behave," she said sternly. Malfoy rolled his eyes and gave her a mock salute. "I just need to do a few things at my office first."

Hermione's office as the Deputy Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was much more spacious than he anticipated. Her large oak desk, neat as a pin, was on one side of the room, flanked by two gigantic bookcases full of books pertaining to the department, and she still had room for the standard two seats in front of her desk for visitors and a couch and coffee table along the opposite wall. Malfoy took a seat on the couch, opting to give her space to work.

She watched him from the corner of her eye while she scanned through the documents that had been left for her since she had left yesterday. His suit was the same cut as last night, but in a dark forest green and his tie black. Noticing that she was only half-working, Malfoy decided to test the waters by speaking.

"Are you alright, Granger?"

Hermione made full eye contact. "I'm fine. Why?"

"Because you haven't snapped anything hostile at me yet today," Malfoy said with a shrug. "Not that I'm complaining, it's just different."

Hermione gave a shrug to match Malfoy's. "Just not in the mood, I suppose."

Malfoy nodded understandingly as he sipped his coffee, wincing at the bitter taste on his tongue. "You're entitled to off days, I suppose," he said nonchalantly.

Hermione clucked disapprovingly with her tongue. "I don't have off days," she replied proudly. "Hey…what is this?"

She held up a piece of parchment, much smaller than the other files that she had been sifting through. Her eyes quickly scanned it, and when she spoke again, her voice was alarmed him. "Malfoy, look."

A sense of foreboding settled over Malfoy's shoulders as he went around to her side of the desk. The note was written in a wide, sprawling script, but there was no mistaking its message.

"_One down, more to come._

_All I want is you, Granger."_

"What in the Merlin?" Malfoy asked, his voice hushed. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but the sound of rustling paper stopped her. She and Malfoy paused, both still holding the note, as a flurry of paper airplane memos sailed into Hermione's office at once, fluttering around her and struggling to find a free place on her desk to land. Hermione gave a shriek and covered her face, unwilling to get another paper cut, but Malfoy grabbed on and passed it to her wordlessly as he watched the paper tornado slowly calm.

She opened it as quickly as she could while dodging other memos. "Malfoy," she said again. "One of the goblins has been attacked."

**~GBRB~GBRB~**

Draco wasn't used to speaking to goblins, or deciphering their babbled versions of English. Granger, however, was fluent in Gobbledegook, and spent an inordinate amount of time conversing with the leader of the strike, Griphook. He watched her as she worked, her now longer, still unruly hair pinned back in a chignon that clearly meant business. She had changed out of her usual work heels into more manageable flats before they Apparated to the goblin's site.

It seemed that she had an unlimited amount of pencil skirts, this one navy blue with a pale green shirt that had ruffles on the collar. Malfoy rather liked the way she wore green, but couldn't put his finger on why. He resolved it was because of Slytherin.

"Griphook said they didn't get a note like I did, but that Smodt was attacked earlier this morning with a Cruciatus Curse," she said, sticking her quill into her bun as she spoke. "He's at St. Mungo's now, and they say he'll make a full recovery, but the goblins are scared."

"I can imagine," Draco said fairly. "Do you think it would be too gauche to negotiate with the terms I gave you so we can end this strike?"

Granger gave him a glare.

"Not because I want the recognition or anything, Granger, calm yourself. I thought maybe if the strike was over, the note writer would have nothing to go after."

Granger looked thoughtful. "Let's call a meeting for later today, and we'll go visit Smodt and see what he has to say before the meeting, alright?"

Draco gave her another mock salute.

**~GBRB~GBRB~**

That meeting was destined to never happen. The second both of them Apparated to St. Mungo's, they were whisked away by Aurors, led by Harry, for questioning.

"Malfoy," Harry greeted curtly.

Draco nodded in response. Granger rolled her eyes.

"Behave, you two. Malfoy is the lawyer I'm negotiating with for Gringott's," she told Harry. "He was with me when I found the note. He's been nice," she put emphasis on the nice, using the word to simultaneously scold Harry for not being friendly.

"Has anyone been working with you on this case, Malfoy?" Harry asked, his tone lighter.

"Just me," Draco said firmly. "The only one who has any part in this is my secretary."

"I'm going to need her name," Harry said. Draco obliged, and Harry moved on to Hermione while Draco watched.

"The note said he only wants you?" Harry asked, disgust lacing his voice. "Gross."

Hermione laughed. "I'm not too terribly worried about me, Harry. I'm more worried about the goblins, who had no wand to protect themselves with."

Harry nodded as if he expected this answer. "Well, we're going to place Aurors on them to make sure they stay safe. And we have a translator on hand." Hermione gave him a smile.

"Thank you, Harry."

"Also, I think it's best if you come by and stay at our place tonight," Harry said. "Just in case. We have more wards than the Ministry of Magic and Azkaban combined."

Hermione laughed. "An excuse for more of Ginny's cooking? You've got me," she said. "Just let me get some clothes from my house."

Harry chuckled. "Alright." As Hermione Disapparated, he turned to Malfoy. "I'm not sure what the wards are like at your place, but I would like for you to stay at my place tonight as well."

Malfoy was shocked; his eyebrows almost disappeared into his hair. "Why?"

Harry smirked. "Because Hermione says you've been nice, and that loosely translates to 'Make sure he doesn't get hurt Harry Potter or you'll be the Boy-Who-Died'."

Malfoy shrugged. "I should be okay."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "That's an order, Malfoy."

"You're not my boss, Potter."

"Would you like me to call your boss? Because Kingsley is a good friend of mine," Harry said lightly. "Hermione says you're okay, so you're okay. Besides, the safer you two are, the quicker we can get to the bottom of this mess."

Draco found himself agreeing, against his better judgment, to go to the Potters' for the evening, unsure of which Twilight Zone he had entered.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Once more, I don't have much to say here, other than thank you for the favorite and the follows. If you enjoy, I would appreciate a review. Thank you guys for reading. _

_Disclaimer: This isn't mine. _

**Chapter Three: Thunderously Dark Gray**

When Draco Malfoy finally Floo'd into the Potter home later that evening with a bag of clothes, Granger and the Potters were sitting in the living room, chatting and laughing. It was well past dinnertime; Draco had planned that out himself. He knew that Harry would behave because Hermione told him to, but if he had any correct assumptions of his wife, it wouldn't matter if the Minister of Magic told her to behave, he would still be target practice for her better hexes.

It was Granger who spotted him first; she was bouncing a small, dark haired baby on her knee, presumably the mini-Potter himself.

"Malfoy! I thought you weren't coming," she said brightly, looking considerably happier than she had earlier in the day. She had changed out of her work clothes into a pair of loose linen pants and a tank top whose straps were constantly jumping from her shoulders. He took particular pains not to notice that detail.

"I can't disobey an order that might get back to my boss," he said nonchalantly, trying unsuccessfully to avoid eye contact with Ginny. "Thank you both for inviting me into your home," he said lamely, hoping that would work.

"Try not to look so terrified, Malfoy, I'm not going to bite," the offending redhead said airily, retrieving her baby from Granger. "I've already been given strict orders to behave, and I will obey them unless you specifically ask for it."

Draco visibly relaxed, and Granger smiled, a laugh only barely staying trapped in her mouth. "Why don't you sit down?" she asked. "You look like you're walking into a den of snakes."

"Lions."

She smirked. "What?"

"It's a den of lions, Granger," Draco said as he dropped his bag to the floor. "I'd be stupid to immediately let my guard down."

Harry gave a half-hearted chuckle. "Well, you're here because we need to protect you, so I think it's safe to say that you're not going to be attacked by any of us."

Draco shrugged. "You never know."

Ginny nodded. "Smart man." She passed her baby to his father and gave Draco an appraising look that felt to him like tentative approval. "Would you like some dinner, Malfoy? I saved some leftovers for you, just in case."

Draco, subconsciously, turned to Granger, who gave him a firm blink.

"Sure," he said. "Granger has been very complimentary about your cooking." Granger beamed at Harry, who looked surprised. Ginny appeared pleased, and brought him a heaping plate of fish, chips, and peas.

While he ate in the dining room, he tried, in vain, to eavesdrop on Granger's conversation. When he found her conspicuously quiet, he realized that his presence was probably the culprit. That is, until he spotted her leaning against the doorframe of the dining room.

"I felt rude leaving you here to eat alone," she explained as she took the seat next to him.

"You don't have to keep me company, you know," he said dryly as he speared a piece of fish with his fork. As he spoke, Granger reached over the table and swiped a chip, triumphantly munching on it with a satisfied smile on her face. 

"Oh, I see, you came here to be a food thief," Draco said with a smile. "Good to know my company means something to you."

Granger stuck out her tongue in a most un-ladylike fashion. "I like Ginny's cooking," she reasoned.

Draco nodded. "Me too, this is delicious."

"I heard that!" Ginny called from the living room. "No need to flatter me with what I already know."

"Her modesty, however, leaves much to be desired."

Ginny's offended sound could be heard clearly in the dining room. Granger barked her laughter, and even Harry indulged in chuckles. "Looks like you'll fit in just fine here, Malfoy," Granger said sincerely.

Draco found he wasn't terribly opposed to the idea of fitting in with people who thought of you enough to leave leftovers in the kitchen for you when you showed up late to dinner, or those who laughed at your jokes and didn't make fun of your apprehension in a new place. He didn't mind fitting in with someone like Hermione Granger, who laughed at his terrible jokes and kept him company while he ate.

No, he didn't mind at all.

**~GBRB~GBRB~**

Hermione realized, as she was watching Malfoy eat Ginny's cooking, that she was quickly becoming curious about this new Draco Malfoy, the one that didn't snap at her or call her names; the one who ate Ginny Potter's cooking and cracked jokes. She was curious because this Draco Malfoy looked so much like a boy she hated, but acted so much like someone else.

He was acting like a friend.

When he started slowing down and there was still food on his plate, his gray eyes gave her a look that gave permission for her to continue scavenging from his plate. She felt her eyes crinkle in a happy response and snatched a few more chips, smiling at his mock-offended look.

He wasn't too bad, she supposed.

Somewhere, in the back of her too-complicated mind, she knew that this acceptance of her former bully had something to do with feeling forgotten and lonely because her boyfriend had been MIA for almost two days now, but she couldn't bring herself to care enough to separate her emotions.

For now, she was having fun stealing chips off of a good-looking man's plate, and she couldn't be bothered to over analyze herself.

The sound of the Floo distracted Malfoy enough so that Hermione could snatch more chips from his plate. Her amused giggle caught his attention.

"Hey!" he said with a laugh, pretending to stab at her with his fork. "Behave, you heathen!"

"Quit talking to my girlfriend that way, Ferret."

And suddenly, the euphoria was gone. Malfoy's eyes, full of amusement a minute before, were suddenly flat and as dead as they had often been at Hogwarts. Hermione turned angrily to Ron, who was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, his face almost as red as his hair.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "And what is he doing here?"

Harry's voice, disembodied behind Ron's bulk, came leaking into the kitchen. "They're here for protection, Ron," he said. "There's been an issue with the goblin strike."

"That is still going on?" Ron asked, Malfoy temporarily forgotten.

"You would know if you bothered to talk to me," Hermione said shortly. She turned her eyes to Malfoy, who was still looking anywhere but her.

"I've been busy coaching," Ron said matter-of-factly. "It's not my fault you work all day and all night."

"Then why are you never home when I come home?" Hermione asked hotly. "Practicing Quidditch in the dark, are you?"

Ron scoffed. "What do you know about Quidditch?" he asked, his voice both angry and curious.

"I know that the balls don't glow in the dark," Hermione said. "Which would seem to blow a few holes in the 'I'm working late' story you seem to feed me every night."

"I didn't come here to have you nag me all night," Ron said. "I was confused because I hadn't seen my girlfriend in two days."

Hermione's temper, though it seemed under control, kept spitting out words Hermione knew were better kept unsaid. "Oh, noticed, did you? What was your first clue? That I wasn't in the bed or that I didn't do your dishes?"

Ron raised his eyebrows at her but didn't deign to respond. Instead, he turned to Harry. "Can you tell my girlfriend that I'll be waiting for her at home when she's ready to act like an adult?"

"Me?!" Hermione's offended shriek made Malfoy cringe. Her anger was leaking off of her in waves, and while she was picking the fight, she couldn't bring herself to stop. "Why don't you just pack my stuff, because if you're waiting for me to suddenly act like an adult, then not only do you not know what an adult is, but I will never fit the ridiculous parameters."

Though she knew he followed her, he had the audacity to look confused. "What are you saying, Hermione?" he asked, his voice angry but still much calmer than hers.

"I'm saying that I'm done with your lies and your excuses. You can wait for me all you want, but I'm not coming home," she said, her voice losing its conviction near the end. Her eyes fell on Malfoy, who was watching her curiously. Something in his gaze bolstered her.

Harry and Ginny had become conspicuously absent; they were both in the living room, playing with James but eavesdropping horribly. Ron turned to them. "Is she breaking up with me?"

"I know that the general consensus is that you have below average intelligence, Ronald, but I think it's safe to say you're smart enough to grasp a rudimentary sentence," Hermione spat as she dropped back into her chair.

Malfoy gave a quiet snort beside her.

"Oh, you think that's funny, Ferret?" Ron shouted, his anger coming back full force. "What did you do, huh? Flash around a little bit of that Malfoy money and tell her she could have it if she dumped me?"

Hermione laughed mirthlessly. "Oh, sure, it's all got to be Malfoy's fault. Just because you can't take responsibility for your own actions doesn't mean it's his fault you're an insufferable prat."

"Trust me, I don't need to flash money to make Granger decide you aren't worth her time," Malfoy said quietly from his seat. Hermione turned to him, surprised, and Ron's face started shifting to an unflattering puce color.

"You think so, do you?" Ron said, unable to think of something to say.

Malfoy stood. "I do. In fact, I've done nothing but my job for the past two days, and even I saw this coming. The fact that you didn't…well, it just proves my basic hypothesis."

A vein was thumping in Ron's temple. "What hypothesis is that?"

"That Hermione Granger is too good for you, Weasel. And well, your intelligence is, as Granger said, below average."

If Ron hadn't chosen that moment to leap at Malfoy, wand raised, Hermione would have laughed at the absurdity of it all. As it was, she was dumping Ron publicly without even giving him a chance to defend himself, Harry and Ginny were listening in the other room, trying to comfort a suddenly frightened James from the loud noises, and Draco Malfoy came to defend her honor.

Not that she needed him to defend her honor, mind. Instead, she pulled her wand from the waistband of her pants and pointed it at Ron, who was aiming at Malfoy. Malfoy, on the other hand, hadn't moved to defend himself. He just smirked at the fury coloring Ron's face, calm as the night sky outside.

"Ronald, let him go." When Ron ignored her, she gathered her strength and jabbed her wand into his throat. The anger she felt sent a spark into his skin there, and he yelped, letting Malfoy go. "Back up," she commanded.

He obliged, his hands up.

"It's obvious that you care more about your supposed friend than you do about your boyfriend," Ron said, his voice full of passive-aggression.

Hermione clenched her jaw. "If that's what you think, then it's time for you to leave."

Ron stared and didn't move. Malfoy's head swiveled between Hermione's and Ron's, but thankfully, he remained silent. Finally, Ginny spoke.

"I think she's right, Ron," she said gently. Hermione gave her a grateful smile while Ron turned his furious gaze on her.

"How can you be okay with having this slime in your own house, in front of your own child?" he said, gesturing to Malfoy, who was trying to quietly resume his seat.

"I haven't done anything!" Malfoy protested, finally frustrated. Ron gave him a sneer that rivaled school-age Malfoy's and turned back to his sister.

"You're acting like a traitor," Ron snarled.

"Well, you're acting like a prat in my own house, and as far as I can see, you're the one who made my son cry tonight, not Malfoy," Ginny answered primly. "Now you can leave, or I can have Harry throw you out." She gave him a glare that made even Hermione nervous. "Your choice."

Ron turned to Harry, still bouncing baby James in his arms, trying to keep the fussing baby soothed. "What do you have to say to this?" he asked.

Harry gave him a sympathetic look. "I think my wife has spoken for both of us," he said quietly.

With an air of trying to save face, Ron turned to Hermione. "I'm keeping the apartment," he said.

She said nothing, but tilted her head toward the fireplace. Ron's unhappy gaze fell, once more, on Malfoy, but he couldn't find anything to say. With a sigh, he stepped into the fireplace and was gone in a rush of green flames.

**~GBRB~GBRB~**

As soon as Ron was gone, it was like everyone's puppet strings had been cut. Hermione collapsed back into her chair, her eyes watering, Ginny fell back into the couch, shaking her head, and Harry sighed, lowering his head to his baby's.

Draco watched Granger closely. She was struggling valiantly not to cry, and he had to admire her strength, but he wordlessly passed her a napkin with a knowing look. She took it and dabbed gently at her eyes.

"You were right," she said quietly. "I didn't want to marry a guy like that.

Draco gave her a half-hearted smirk. "I'm always right, Granger," he said. He pushed his plate to her. "I think you need these more than I do."

She obliged him with a chuckle that didn't quite meet her eyes. "It's just hard to say goodbye to something that has been such a huge part of your life for so long," she whispered as she pushed the leftover food around her plate.

"I think I know a little about that, Granger," Draco said. She looked up at him, her big brown eyes full of uncertainty and sorrow that he felt a pang in his chest. Her eyes filled with tears and he pulled her to him in a half-hug that put his arm around her shoulders.

"You're a good guy, Draco Malfoy," she whispered into his shirt as the tears leaked into the fabric.

For a second, Draco actually believed her.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Thank you gu_ys _for the follows and the favorites. I appreciate the support! Now on to Chapter Four, wherein I introduce another character's point of view. I like to stick to Draco and Hermione's, because they are the central characters to the story, but let's be a little daring, shall we? _

_Disclaimer: Don't rub it in. _

**Chapter Four: Domesticity and Domestic Terrorism**

Ginny Weasley awoke to the blustering gray sky the next morning suddenly and rudely, jolting out of a nondescript nightmare. With a hand over her heart, she turned to her husband, still snoring happily away beside her. Smiling gently, she kissed his forehead and rose to check on her baby.

She found James in the same pose as his father, one little fist close to his face and the other swung far away from his body. Satisfied that her child and husband were dreaming happily, Ginny went about her usual business. She tied her hair back away from her face and began to cook breakfast.

She tiptoed past Hermione and Malfoy in the living room, both asleep on reclining chairs that had been conspicuously pushed closer together. She eyed their hands, not quite touching but not far away enough to be comfortable, suspiciously. She had kept her eyes on Malfoy during Hermione and Ron's fight, unsure of what she would have to do if he jumped in where he shouldn't. But to her surprise, he had kept a watchful eye on the pair but had not made a single derogatory comment. In fact, he had been more respectful than Ron.

She was surprised by his newfound hesitance, his quiet, watchful nature that seemed to exude confidence without being obnoxious. He looked like he was used to being seen and not heard, and that notion hurt her a little, even though she hated him.

Or used to hate him, whichever.

She couldn't conceivably say that she liked Draco Malfoy; he had barely spoken to her. But she felt the potential for a kinship, and she liked how he stood up for Hermione, even when doing so meant probably getting punched in the face.

Her thoughts seemed to have leaked into the atmosphere because she could hear the rustling of blankets that meant that someone else was now awake. She kept her back to the sound and flicked her wand at the coffee pot and the kettle to kick them into gear.

"Thank you for letting me stay here," came a gruff voice, thick with sleep. Ginny turned her head halfway to meet the eyes of Draco Malfoy, standing awkwardly in her kitchen doorway in a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt, looking altogether uncomfortable.

"It was really no problem," she said graciously. "Please, sit down."

He didn't. "I just want you to know that I wouldn't normally impose like this," he continued.

Ginny huffed impatiently and he absent-mindedly took the chair. "Malfoy, what happened to you?" she asked.

He paused in his polite degradation of himself and why he was there. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean, you used to be a complete git who made fun of anyone who wasn't a pureblood, Merlin forbid a Muggleborn, and generally a sneering, foul prat," Ginny began, noting the small flinches he made at the names she gave him. "But yesterday you were kind, chivalrous, even friendly to not only me and my family, but to Hermione as well." She took the seat across from him, waiting for the kettle to blow. "I'm just kind of curious as to why."

"Did you know it took me a very long time to find a job?" Malfoy said suddenly. "I sent my resume to so many places only to have them tell me that they didn't want a Death Eater working for them." He twisted his arm around to show the Dark Mark. "I didn't want this to define me my whole life. Don't get me wrong, some of those ideals still exist, far in the recesses of my mind, but I don't care about blood anymore, and I try not to sneer as much." He shrugged, to Ginny's surprise. "I just want to make a life for myself that has nothing to do with Voldemort or what I had to do."

Ginny gave him a firm nod. "I like you."

Malfoy looked startled. "I beg your pardon?"

"I wasn't sure if I didn't like you or if I liked you, but I think I like you," she said, her energy palpable now that she had a beat on her own feelings.

"Hey now, aren't you supposed to be married?" Malfoy asked jokingly, mostly to cover up his uncertainty.

She swatted him with the back of her hand. "And now you're a prat again."

Malfoy stood as the kettle blew, motioning for Ginny to remain seated. "I try to keep people on their toes."

Ginny watched him closely as he made tea for both himself and her. He asked her how she took it, if she liked it strong or weak, and even asked permission to put his secret ingredient in it. When she took a sip, she felt warmth spread all the way to her toes.

"Is there nutmeg in this?" she asked. Malfoy gave her a proud nod that was almost instantly underscored by nervousness. "What?"

"Do you know what Hermione eats for breakfast?" he asked tentatively.

Ginny gave him raised eyebrows.

"She's been particularly nice to me, even though I'm a total git, so I thought I would make her breakfast," Malfoy said, his eyes darting to every surface in the kitchen that wasn't Ginny. She felt a smirk taking over her face.

"She loves burnt bacon," she said. "Add a couple of eggs and a piece of toast with jam and no butter and you've got Hermione's perfect breakfast. Want me to help?"

Malfoy waved her off, pulling the components out of the different cupboards. Ginny watched with amusement.

"Do you like her?"

**~GBRB~GBRB~**

Ginny Weasley could definitely ask the hard questions, Draco thought as his mind reeled at her latest query. He wasn't sure if he could answer it truthfully; he wasn't even sure if he knew how he felt. He knew that he was very painfully aware of every move she made, the way her lips quirked, the way her eyes darted and fluttered, the curve of her graceful fingers, the sharp movements of her shoulders when she was upset. But he knew that even entertaining the idea of nursing a soft spot for Granger made him impossibly nervous.

"I'll let you know when I know," he said, feeling proud for the truthfulness of the answer.

Ginny gave him a knowing nod. "Well, if her friends put you off, know that you have approval from me, at least." When he looked at her, alarmed, she continued. "You were there for her last night when no one else could have been. You're choosing to make her breakfast. You're acting like you like her, even if you don't know it yet."

Draco nodded, knowing that his actions were misleading. "She'd never like a guy like me anyway," he said.

"Don't be so sure," Ginny said as she sipped her tea again. "She did date Ron, so we know she likes gits."

Malfoy gave her a deserved laugh. "I have a feeling you're the wittiest Weasley, aren't you?"

Ginny flipped her hair proudly in answer.

"I guess we'll see how everything goes once this whole goblin thing is over," he said, dropping bacon into grease.

He found himself lost in thoughts about Hermione Granger as he made her breakfast. The thought that possessed him completely, the kind of need to do something nice for her, had to have been rooted in the fact that she had cried an almost obscene amount of tears in the name of Ronald Weasley while he tried to comfort her. He felt a protectiveness that had lain dormant since he and Pansy had stopped speaking flare to life as her fists clung to him in an all-too familiar way. He knew that he needed to feel needed, and Granger was giving him that option. He didn't want to base his feelings on that.

But when he turned his head only slightly and saw her shift under her blanket, thoughts of her slammed into him so painfully that he had to turn away.

Ginny was still watching him. If anyone trusted him right now, it was her. With an air of swallowing pride, Draco charmed the food to simmer and sat down in front of her.

"Let's say I do like her," he said seriously. "How would one go about wooing her?"

Ginny smirked. "You do what you're doing."

Draco groaned, exasperated. "That doesn't help at all!"

Ginny laughed and checked to make sure that Hermione was still asleep. When she confirmed that she was still curled up against her blanket, she turned back to Draco. "Think about the relationship she just got out of. Ron was never making time for her, and hardly ever paid enough attention to her to even notice that she was unhappy. Since she got fed up you stood up for her, comforted her, and are now making her breakfast. You're giving her the attention she craves."

Draco felt a smile creeping onto his mouth. "So…that's good."

Ginny placed her hand gently over his. "That's good."

**~GBRB~GBRB~**

Hermione awoke, once again, to the smell of bacon. Groaning, she stretched her arms over her head like a cat and yawned majestically. A laugh from the kitchen shook the excess sleepiness from her limbs and she stood, wrapping the blanket around her slight frame, and shuffled her way to the kitchen. What she saw was surprising.

Draco Malfoy was sitting across from Ginny Weasley, and they were laughing. They were poking fun at each other and actually enjoying each other's company. Hermione found herself staring, insatiably jealous that Ginny found ease in Malfoy's company where Hermione felt nothing but weird jolts in her stomach and weird adrenaline. The presence of another person seemed to catch Ginny's attention, and she glanced up at her friend, her brown eyes full of laughter, and softened her laugh into a gentle smile.

"Come, sit down," she said. "Someone has a surprise for you."

Cautiously, Hermione took a seat while Malfoy stood, his back still facing her. Ginny was staring at him expectantly, and Hermione found herself almost mirroring her gaze. She had spent an embarrassing amount of time holding onto him last night and crying like an absolute fool; she should have been surprising Malfoy with a new shirt without her snot on it, not whatever he had planned.

Lost in her embarrassing thoughts, Hermione didn't even notice that Malfoy had turned around until he placed a plate of breakfast in front of her, complete with burnt bacon and her toast the way she liked it.

"Malfoy!" she exclaimed happily. "Did you do this?"

Ginny nodded proudly. "I didn't even help," she said.

Hermione's eyes turned back to Malfoy, who looked, for the first time, bashful. "You were upset last night, so I thought this might cheer you up," he said earnestly. Hermione decided she liked how sincere and bashful looked on Draco Malfoy's face. As a response, she stood from her chair and vaulted into his arms, hugging him tightly. He froze against her and slowly snaked his arm around her waist. "I take this as approval?" he asked, his eyes on Ginny.

Hermione squeezed him in response, but it was Ginny's response he cared about. She gave him a wink, and he put another arm around Hermione and lifted her, spinning her around and placing her gently back in her chair.

"Eat," he commanded. "I need to talk to Harry soon."

"He's not up yet," Ginny reminded him.

"Yes he is," Harry said from the doorway, the ultimate post of eavesdroppers for the kitchen. Malfoy gave a salute to Ginny and followed her husband into the living room.

**~GBRB~GBRB~**

Draco felt his stress level rising exponentially the more steps he took that sent him farther from Hermione's happy presence. He knew he didn't necessarily have to have this conversation, but he felt like if he didn't, the miscommunication would probably screw him up eventually. The fact that he even thought about having this conversation filled him with pride based mostly in his maturity.

"I need to talk to you about Granger," Draco began, sitting next to Harry on the couch.

Harry raised his eyebrows, not unlike his wife had done. "Go on…"

"I already talked to Ginny…"

Harry smirked. "You like her," he said knowingly.

Draco sighed. "Everyone knows before I do."

"You're not sure?" Harry asked.

"I like to feel needed," Draco explained. "Hermione makes me feel needed and independent at the same time. I don't want to jump into my feelings before I even know what they are."

Harry appraised him. "That's very mature of you."

Draco waved him off. "We'll see," he said. "I just wanted to talk to you about it."

"So I don't punch you once you decide that you like her?" Harry said, smiling.

"Well…yeah."

"Let me tell you something about Hermione," Harry said, shifting his leg on the couch. "She's very easy to please as long as you think logically. She likes to have time to herself, but she likes to be cared for. Everything about her lies in creating a good balance, you just have to be able to find that middle ground. Ron couldn't do that. Right now, you're okay in my book, but don't think I won't be keeping an eye on you," he wagged a finger at him comically. "Keep up what you're doing, and you won't need my approval, because you'll have Hermione's."

The sound of a hungry baby roused Harry from his perch. "Good luck," he said sincerely.

Draco found that he rather liked the Potters now that they had a baby and no war to make them self-righteous. He laughed to himself and stood to join Hermione in the kitchen once more. As he did, he noticed the tawny owl resting on the windowsill. Hermione was opening a letter it had been clutching only moments before.

"We have to go," she said, her face whiter than he had ever seen it. "Smodt is dead."


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Thank you so much for my first four reviews, Dancing-Souls. It really means a lot that you decided to review on my story just when I was losing hope on it. _

_Disclaimer: Don't rub it in. _

**Chapter Five: What Now?**

Seeing Granger sway at the sight of the goblin's black blood took Draco by surprise. As if by reflex, he reached for her hand and gave it a quick squeeze before letting it free again. She turned to him, surprised, but gave him a brief smile when the confusion faded. When he paled at the sight of the goblin's mangled body, it was Granger who placed a comforting hand on his shoulder for only a second before going into business-mode.

"What do we know?" she asked Terry Boot, the Auror in charge of the scene. He gave her a nod of recognition that he did not bestow on Draco.

"He was Crucioed, that much we know for sure," he said, choosing to turn the pair away from the body. "However, he was not killed with a Killing Curse, but by Muggle means. We're going to have to look closer at the body before we can tell you what exactly killed him."

"I thought he was supposed to stay at St. Mungo's," Granger said, her head craning to look back at the body.

"He asked to be released so that he could come talk to the rest of the goblins," Terry explained. "But there doesn't look to be any traces of the other goblins here, so he might have been Imperiused as well. A magical autopsy will tell us all of that."

"So what are we supposed to do?" Draco asked. Terry turned to him, his polite demeanor suddenly stiff.

"Whatever your job is," he answered.

Draco felt his usual anger rise at the blatant disrespect. "I'll do my job if you do your's," he replied curtly. "We need to find out what killed him as soon as possible."

Terry sneered at him and turned, without responding, back to Granger. "Good luck on the strike."

Draco opened his mouth to say something else, but Granger's hand on his arm stopped him. She shook his head at him and pushed him gently away from Terry. "He's not worth it."

"Oh, I know he's not worth it," Draco said tightly, "but that doesn't mean I don't want to send a Stinging Hex to his genitals."

Granger smiled but quickly repressed it. "The best thing we can do is find out who did this," she said firmly. "Get all of your files from your office and meet me in mine."

Draco gave her a mock salute. "Coffee?"

Granger gave him a smile. "If you insist."

When Draco returned to Granger's office, he found her almost hidden behind a stack of files on her desk. Wordlessly, he set her cup of coffee down beside the files and grabbed his own stack. Without looking up, she took the coffee cup and took a long sip.

"Found anything yet?" he asked, mostly because he didn't want to read any of the files yet.

She closed the file and looked up at him with a smile. Draco suddenly wished he could make her smile like that. He let out a small sigh, and Granger furrowed her brows, confused. Draco cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Well, I've been pretty much looking through the grievances of the goblins, thinking that if there was anyone who held a grudge against them, the goblins would at least be aware of it, but the only name I've come across so far is Blaise Zambini."

Draco, midway through clearing his throat again, coughed. "Blaise?" he asked. "No way. He's the one who asked me to help with this case."

Granger shrugged. "Just being thorough. It wouldn't hurt to talk to him, though. He might know about any other threats."

Draco nodded, still suspicious. Blaise had gone out on a limb to help fix Draco's image, he didn't want to look like he was being ungrateful by questioning him like an Auror.

"That's as far as I've gotten so far, but there's not a whole lot left for me to look through," Granger continued. "Is there anyone on your list that you can think of?"

"The only people that I know are connected to this are us, Kingsley, Blaise, and the goblins," Draco admitted. "I've been staying as far away from it as possible because I thought having my name publicly mentioned with the project would make it more difficult to close."

Granger nodded understandingly. "Well, I say that we talk to Blaise, and see what he can give us."

Draco, still reluctant, shrugged noncommittally. "Have we gotten anything back on the note you got?"

Granger shook her head. "Not that I know of." A paper plane slid gracefully onto her desk. "Oh, sorry, hold on a sec."

Draco watched closely as she fiddled with the memo before opening it. He saw her eyes flick over the words almost faster than he could follow. He continuously marveled at the speed she could comprehend things. Slowly, her eyelashes began to flutter and her hand rose to her hair to loosen a few strands to settle in front of her face. Her eyes were rapidly filling with tears.

"Whoa whoa, what's going on?" Draco asked, rising to stand beside Granger. She wordlessly passed him the memo, and he read it without really needing to.

_An owl arrived for you in the Atrium. The note is enclosed: _

_Hermione,_

_Come move your stuff out of the flat today. I will be at practice until the evening, and I don't want to see you while you pack. If you don't come get it today, I'm going to put it all in the hallway and let the neighbors dig through it._

_Ron_

"What an arsehole," Draco muttered. He let the memo flutter to the ground and turned to the distraught Granger. "Come now, we're wizards. Just a swish and flick and all of the packing will be done," he comforted, snaking an arm around her shoulders. "Do you want to do that at lunch and then go grab a drink at the Leaky Cauldron?"

Granger sniffled and looked up at him. Suddely, Draco had to step away from her. Her large, damp eyes were so sad, so heartbreaking, that he felt the ache deep in his chest. He didn't, couldn't feel that much without doing something to comfort her. Something she wouldn't want him to do.

"Would you really help me?" she asked, her voice startlingly weak.

Draco, against his better judgment, looked back at her again. "Of course I would," he said, opening his arms again. Granger stepped into them and folded herself around his torso, her head falling comfortably against his breastbone. He held her that way, firmly but not tightly, for a few seconds if only so he couldn't see her face and think about kissing her. To settle himself, he dropped the lightest of kisses on the top of her head.

She let out a tiny sigh. "Okay, let's do it."

His heart jumped at her choice of words, but he said nothing. He took her arm and led her to the Atrium, where they could safely Disapparate to her flat. A few people were watching them possessively, as if they were waiting for Granger to shout that Draco was touching her inappropriately on the arm and they would all leap to her defense. He thought he saw a camera flash out of the corner of his eye and tightened his hold on her arm.

She gave him a glance out of the corner of her eye and nodded discreetly. He landed in the living room of her flat slightly disoriented. She giggled momentarily, but immediately stifled it when he turned to her with an eyebrow raised.

"Sorry."

Draco raised his hands in surrender and glanced around Granger's flat. It was full of grays and oranges that almost made him wince. He knew instinctively that the orange accents were the touches of Ron. He retched internally.

He turned back to Granger, who was staring at a photo on the mantle. He slowly crept up behind her, unwilling to startle her. He glanced over her shoulder. It was a picture of her and Ron, Ron's arm thrown protectively over her shoulder. She was looking up at him with…love. Her brown eyes were shining and her nose wrinkled with her laughter. He was looking at the camera, but the pure love she was giving him with her look…he wished someone would look at him that way.

She turned halfway to him, more tears shining in her eyes, and leaned over to press her lips softly to his rough jaw. She pulled away almost as quickly as she leaned in, her eyes searching his.

"I shouldn't have brought you here," she whispered delicately.

He didn't answer her, but watched her eyes flicker around him before finally settling back on him.

"It must be uncomfortable for you."

He shrugged. Maybe if he wasn't uncomfortable, she would press her lips to him again. He almost shivered at the thought.

"I said I would help you pack, and I plan to stand by that," he said, knowing his excuse wouldn't stand.

"I thought it would only take a swish and flick," Granger replied smugly.

He hesitated. "You're right…but maybe another swish and flick would get it done twice as fast," he suggested lamely, shrugging.

She kissed his cheek again, and he closed his eyes. "Maybe you're right," she said. "Just promise me something?"

"Sure," he said, his eyes slowly opening again.

"When this is over, you'll take me somewhere we can forget all about this creepy museum of my life with Ron," her eyes were no longer shining with tears, but with something else.

Without a word, Draco swished his wand and started packing for her. Her laugh brought a smile to his lips.

**~GBRB~GBRB~**

Hermione was usually a very calm, organized packer. She put everything that went together in the right box, they were always labeled correctly, and they were always stacked according to fragility. Today, however, she found that Malfoy was infinitely more helpful than she was. She kept getting lost in the memories of the flat, in the pictures hanging on the walls, and her clothes, forever intermingled with Ron's.

She kept catching Malfoy's eye in her peripherals. His gaze changed when he saw her stand up for herself in front of Ron, and she liked the way she felt when he looked at her. When he dropped a soft kiss on the top of her head, she melted into his embrace and momentarily forgot everything about Ron.

She didn't want Malfoy to become some sort of dirty little secret; she didn't want him to be a rebound either. She liked the way Malfoy made her feel, but did she like him?

She wasn't entirely sure yet. She liked the person he had become, she liked that he stood up for her, that he hadn't called her a single name yet. But she wasn't sure if he was just trying to keep his job or if he had actually changed. They hadn't spent enough time together yet.

She was overthinking this. She shook her head and turned back to Malfoy, who was levitating her dishes into a box.

He turned to her, feeling the pressure of her eyes on him. He tilted his head, silently questioning her stare.

"Have you really changed?"

Malfoy tilted his head the other way, his eyebrows rising. "Pardon?"

"I mean, we haven't spent so much time around each other that I know for a fact that you're actually a good person, but you've done really nice things, and you've been a really good friend, but we've only been friends for a few days and I don't want to ask questions and say things kind of like this an offend you and have you call me a horrible name or something but I really want to know if you're going to continue to be nice to me so I can figure out if I like you or if you're just a distraction because if you've changed I really want to like you, and I think I do, but I don't want to just jump into something and just…what?"

Malfoy's face was amused but also a little hurt, and he leaned against the counter of the kitchen. "That was probably the longest run on sentence I've ever heard."

She laughed and groaned at the same time. "I'm serious."

He looked like he was struggling to say something. "I had this conversation with Harry and Ginny already," he began.

Hermione cut him off. "I beg your pardon? You talked about me to Harry and Ginny?!"

"I mean, I didn't mean to, but…" he ran his hands through his hair. "The point is, I told them that I felt something for you, but I wasn't sure."

Hermione's look of surprise dissolved into relief. "So…you're not sure either?"

He shook his head with a smile. "But just because we don't know right now doesn't mean we can't figure it out."

She quirked an eyebrow. "And how do you propose we do that?"

He stepped closer to her, smirking a little when she almost stepped away. "Calm down, Granger." He held out his hand, palm up, for hers, and smiled when she took it. He pulled her close, his hand reaching up to touch her soft cheek. He very slowly leaned down to press a cautious kiss to her lips. She tentatively kissed him back. After a few seconds, she pulled away.

"That was weird wasn't it?" he asked, crinkling his nose.

"Yeah, a little bit."

Malfoy laughed, the sound of it reaching deep within Hermione and bringing up her own mirth, bubbling over into giggles she couldn't stop. She heaved breaths through her mouth, her hand on her chest, and reached into the cabinet beside her. She pulled out a half-empty bottle of firewhiskey. She popped the top and took a swig. She flinched at the taste and passed it to him.

"Um, what?" he asked, taking the offered bottle.

"Take a drink," she commanded, her voice rough with the liquor. He obliged, wincing slightly at the taste.

"Another one," she said, taking a sip and passing it back. He gave her a curious look, but did as he was told.

"Now kiss me," she demanded.

**~GBRB~GBRB~**

Draco felt the warmth of the liquor spread through his chest, knowing it would soon dissipate unless he drank more. When he heard Granger's command, he felt that warmth settle as if it wasn't going to leave.

"Pardon?" he asked, surprised. After the awkwardness of the first kiss, he wasn't sure she would want to kiss him again.

"First kisses are always weird," she said, taking the firewhiskey and taking another sip. "So we'll test…this…with another one."

Draco felt a smile tug at his mouth and let it evolve into a smirk. "Why don't you initiate it?" he said with a chuckle. "Maybe it was just me."

Granger shrugged. "Fine. Take another drink," she said, holding out the bottle. He took it and as he was raising it to his lips, felt Granger grab the bottle and take it from him.

Her lips were on his before he could even ask why she wasn't letting him take a drink. Instead of cautious, she pressed her entire body into his, her lips soft and pliant against his. She fumbled with the bottle, setting it on the counter clumsily before grabbing his bicep with one hand and snaking her other hand around his neck.

This kiss was not awkward. This kiss was far from awkward. She was hungry, drinking in his taste as greedily as she could. He turned her so she was pressed against the counter and lifted her up, hearing distantly the crash of the firewhiskey bottle against the floor. From the counter, she was slightly taller than him, and he lowered his hands to her waist while she raked her fingers through his hair.

He moaned into her mouth when her nails dug into his neck and broke the kiss to press kisses to her neck, pulling her waist closer to him. She was breathing heavily, her head resting on his shoulder as he slowed the kiss to small pecks on her neck and jaw. When he hit a certain spot on her neck, she shivered and swatted at him.

"That wasn't awkward," she breathed, her forehead on his. "That…was…not…awkward."

Draco laughed from deep in his chest. "It was not awkward."

"We should take this somewhere else," she said, her eyes trying to find his while they were still too close.

Draco felt anticipation settle into his lower belly. "You sure you want that?" he asked, hating how husky his voice sounded already.

"I don't care what it is as long as it isn't here."

Draco felt his arousal immediately dissipate at the sound of Ron Weasley's voice. He tried to turn to him, but Granger's legs kept him in place.

"I thought you were going to be gone until the evening," Granger said, her voice icy.

Ron ignored her. "Think you could step away from my girlfriend, Ferret?"

"I'm not your girlfriend, Ron."

"I would like to, but she won't let me," Draco held up his hands and pretended to struggle. His lack of force almost brought a smile to Granger's face, but she suppressed it.

"This is still my flat," she said. "I can technically do whatever I want in it."

Ron sighed. "Real mature, Hermione."

She gave an indignant snort that made Draco flinch. She finally released him and hopped down from the counter. "I'll just finish up in the bedroom and then we can go," she said to Draco. She pushed past Ron and left them alone.

Which was very inconsiderate, Draco thought.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Ron asked, his face rapidly reddening. Draco had to marvel at his acting skills before Ron's wand was in his throat again.

"I was helping Granger pack," Draco said helplessly, shrugging as if he was being blasé about it.

"Right, yeah, you looked like you were helping," Ron snarled, poking Draco in the throat again.

Draco shoved Ron's arm down. "For your information, Weasel, Granger is not your girlfriend anymore, which means she is open to kissing whoever she wishes."

"Just because we broke up last night doesn't mean I don't care about her," Ron snapped. "And it is never okay for her to kiss you."

"Why don't you ask Ginny about if it's okay or not?" Draco asked lightly. "I'm sure she'd have something to say about it."

At least, he hoped she would back him up on it. Ron's stricken face was almost enough to satisfy him. Granger, levitating her boxes behind her, reentered the kitchen and gave Draco a deep, lingering kiss that made his head fuzzy, and trailed her fingers down to his waistband, where she hooked her fingers into the waist of his pants and tugged toward her.

"Come on, Draco," she purred. "We have business to finish." She turned her sharp eyes to the shocked face of Ron before she Disapparated, linking all of the boxes so they would follow.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Apologies that it's been a while since I updated; I was out of the state on a quick vacation. I started a new fic just today, but I want you guys to know that I will continue to update this one so I'm going to try to finish this chapter today as well. The chances of that happening are slim because I'm at work right now SHHHHH and I should be working, but if it isn't posted today (Monday) I'll be posting it Tuesday._

_Disclaimer: Nooope._

**Chapter Six: Decode**

When Draco and Hermione landed in the Potter's house, they let an awkward silence overtake them momentarily. Sneakily, Draco turned his eyes to Granger, and she to him. When their eyes met, a smile crept onto her lips and he felt his turn up in response. Soon, they were laughing hysterically, their charade over. She clutched at his arm and doubled over, her giggles stealing her breath from her lungs.

"He's such…an arsehole…" Granger choked out between fits of giggles. Draco laughed even harder at that. Finally, the mirth dissipated, leaving them with another awkward silence.

"So…" Draco trailed off, unsure of what they should do.

Granger's voice went into business mode. "I should probably shrink this stuff so it isn't a huge shock when Ginny gets home from visiting her mother and Harry gets home from work. I won't take me long to find a place."

"You can just send your extra stuff to my place," Draco shrugged. "It's not like I'm going to be there for a while anyway."

Granger looked surprised. "You mean it?"

Draco shrugged again. "I can send it there right now if you like."

Granger, her eyes still surprised, nodded silently. Draco flicked his wand and half of her boxes disappeared. He shrunk the remaining ones and levitated them into a corner of the Potters' living room. When he turned back to Granger, she was still watching him with a half-surprised look on her face. After a while, Draco found himself squirming under her scrutiny.

"What?"

Granger wrapped her arms around Draco and squeezed tightly, burying her face into his chest. Furrowing his brows, Draco wrapped his arms around her accordingly and rubbed soothing circles on her back.

"Granger, are you okay?"

She shook her head against his chest. Draco, without letting go of her, led her to the couch and sat, forcing her to let go of him. She avoided his eyes.

"Granger, please tell me what's going on," Draco said simply, knowing that if he pressed her in any other manner she would shut down. She tucked her unruly hair behind her ears and let her eyes drift upward to his. He was astonished to find that they were full of tears that hadn't fallen.

"Ron's just an arsehole," she said, a sob breaking her sentence.

Draco laughed at her simple statement. "And that's making you cry?"

"No…" she wiped her eyes, even though she had never let a tear free. "He and I were together for so long, but he never did anything as nice as just offering me a place to put my stuff."

Confusion overtook Draco's handsome face.

"Everything we did, everything that needed to get done, that was always my responsibility, you know? I was always the one who did the chores, the one who decided where we were going to go and what we were going to do. None of it was ever up to his standard, mind you."

Draco took one of Granger's hands in his own and kissed her knuckles lightly. "Well, that's all over now." He surveyed her brightening face. "Now, since I snogged you, I think it's safe to say that I owe you dinner."

Granger laughed, her giggle lighthearted once again. "Didn't you do that a little backwards?"

"When a lady tells me to kiss her, I oblige."

Granger raised her hands in defeat. "I think dinner sounds great, but we do have a case to work on."

Draco nodded. "You already looked through all of your notes, let me look through them while you get dressed, how does that sound?"

Granger appraised him. "Maybe I want to look at the notes again."

Draco snatched the notes from the top of a box in the corner. "Well too bad, because I have them all." He shooed her with his hand. "Go, do girly things."

Granger's laugh echoed all the way down the hall to the shower.

**~GBRB~GBRB~**

Hermione contemplated her situation in the mirror as she carefully applied her makeup. Here she was, only days after breaking up with the man she thought she was going to marry and have kids with, getting ready for a date with a man she was supposed to hate.

It was almost too bizarre to contemplate, but contemplate she did as she applied mascara gently to her eyelashes. Malfoy had been acting so completely different in the past few days, and while he was supposed to be the pureblood supremacist and all-around git extraordinaire, it seemed like he and Ron had switched bodies. Hermione wasn't sure what to make of that change, but she found that Malfoy paid her more attention; he made her feel important.

She was the brightest witch of her age, dammit, she was supposed to feel important!

A date couldn't hurt, right? It shouldn't. She had already snogged him, though she would be lying through her teeth if she said she hadn't been surprised by how good it was. He was pliant but controlling, strong but vulnerable, and she found the dichotomy fascinating and thrilling. She wasn't too big on being fashionable, so her outfit for their date was a simple dress in pale blue that flowed to her knees. She fastened a small cardigan over her shoulders to keep out the potential chill in September at night.

When she finally decided she was ready, there were more voices in the house. Ginny and Harry were home, she presumed.

She was shocked at what she found. Malfoy had taken her notes and consolidated them into cards and fixed them on a wall adorned with pictures of their possible suspects. While Hermione had only been able to come up with one, Malfoy had managed to come up with two more. She stared at it, astounded, and let her eyes rake it over hungrily, drinking in the information as quickly as she dared.

"Do you like it?" Malfoy asked tentatively, holding a small glass of wine in his hand, poured by Ginny. Ginny watched her closely while she poured Hermione a glass and levitated it over to her.

"It's brilliant," she breathed. "But do you really want James to see it?"

Malfoy gave her a wink. "I thought of that, too." He gave his wand a flick and suddenly the board of suspects was a huge Puddlemere United poster. James, bouncing on Harry's lap, clapped his hands clumsily as he watched the players fly by.

"I can change the team if you want," he directed at Harry, who waved his hand off in amusement.

"As long as it's not the Cannons," he laughed.

"Speaking of cannonfire," Ginny began knowingly, her eyes on Hermione. "I heard Ron caught you two in the act today."

Hermione gave her an innocent look and Malfoy turned her head to see Hermione's reaction.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Hermione said, her eyes still wide and innocent.

Ginny turned her gaze on Malfoy, who withered. "We weren't 'going at it,'" he defended. "We were just kissing."

Ginny clapped excitedly. "Well the way Ron shouted it at me, it sounded like a full on pornographic production." She paused and took in Hermione's appearance. "You guys going on a date?"

Malfoy nodded while Hermione blushed. Harry shook his head with a laugh and bounced little James on his lap again. The baby cooed happily, spilling drool down his chin. Ginny's grin grew larger at the sight of Malfoy's face.

Hermione had never seen him smile so large. Malfoy turned to her and offered her his arm.

"Shall we?" he asked. Hermione took his arm and winked at Ginny, who squealed silently. Harry watched the whole exchanged, a bemused look on his face. Malfoy smirked at Hermione and spun on the spot, Apparating her away.

**~GBRB~GBRB~**

"I like them together," Ginny said in the silence Draco and Hermione left behind. "He seems to have really changed."

Harry said nothing, but cleaned the now dripping drool from his son's chin. Ginny watched him closely, waiting for his face to give him away.

"You don't agree?" she prompted.

"That's not it," Harry reasoned. "I just want to see how she looks after this date before I pass judgment." At Ginny's questioning look, he continued. "I saw how she looked after every date with Ron. She looked happy but not elated. Something was always missing. He would have made a comment at the restaurant or picked off her plate or talked about Quidditch the whole time." Ginny nodded. "I want to see if she looks elated when she comes back. If she does, then I approve."

"And if not?"

Harry shrugged and stood, swinging James carefully, eliciting a happy squeal from the baby. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

Ginny smiled endearingly at her husband. "I'm really glad Hermione has you to look out for her," she said, stealing James away from his dad. "Especially since Ron has been a total git."

Harry shrugged. "She's my sister, Gin. I'd do anything for her."

Ginny opened her mouth to respond, but the sound of the fireplace halted her. She and Harry turned their eyes to the green flames curiously before Ron was spat out onto the living room floor.

"Where is she?" he asked, brushing the soot off of his clothes. "Where is Hermione?"

Harry shrugged, looking nonchalant. "She and Malfoy left about an hour ago, something about getting a room…"

Ron's face erupted into a puce color, skipping all pinks and reds. "Where is she, Harry?!"

"Relax, Ron, they just went on a date," Ginny said, rocking her baby, who was starting to fuss at the loud sounds.

"Where?" he asked. "I need to find her."

Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. "No way, I'm not going to let you wreck her date."

Ron scoffed. "Please, she's only doing this to make me jealous, Gin, and you know that. She doesn't like Malfoy."

Ginny shrugged and Harry conveniently started to fiddle with the fringe on one of the blankets on their couch. Ron looked from his sister to his best friend. "What?"

Harry shrugged and said nothing. Ginny turned away, still bouncing James, and went into the kitchen. Ron followed her, an atmospheric storm of negative energy.

"Look Gin, this was a huge mistake, okay, I need to find her and I need to apologize," he pleaded, his anger deflating into desperation. "I didn't realize it until I told her to move out."

Harry, from the other room, shouted, "You made her move out?!"

Ron, for the first time in a while, looked frightened. Harry stormed into the kitchen, and grabbed Ron by the arm, wrenching him into the living room. Ron yelped in pain and Harry tossed him in the direction of the couch. Ron landed heavily, shifting the couch back a few inches.

"She can't even stay at her own place right now because her life is in danger and you made her move out? She wasn't even going to be there for a while, and if I recall correctly," Harry's voice lowered into more dangerous territory, bringing the sound of thunder with it. "Hermione was the one who paid for that apartment when she got her promotion, isn't that right, Ron?"

"Harry, I—"

"Isn't that right?!"

A flash of lightening tore through the living room and James burst into scared tears. Ginny cradled him close to her chest, unwilling to get in Harry's way.

"She did nothing but love you and you couldn't handle not being the center of attention at all hours of the day so you came here to pick a fight, thinking you could humiliate her and she'd just come crawling back to you but you know what? I hope her date with Malfoy goes splendidly. I hope they live happily ever after, because even if she was with Malfoy, at least it would be better than being with you!"

Silence reigned in the aftermath of Harry's outburst, only punctured by the hiccups and sobs of James. He was breathing heavily, his face paler than Ginny had ever seen it before. His scar stood out in sharp relief to the rest of his face, and he looked very much like the fierce war hero he was made out to be.

Ron had nothing to say. He sat on the couch, shrunken in shame, clutching his ear, while Harry took deep breaths to calm himself.

"Are you quite finished?" Ron asked, his voice weak.

Harry collapsed into the seat across from him. "It'll be a long time before I'm quite finished with you, you right git," he growled, pushing his hair out of his face. "But since I've frightened my son, I think it's safe to say that I'm done with you for now."

"Then I want to wait here for her," Ron said, crossing his arms. Ginny laughed from the kitchen.

"What part of that entire tirade made you think that you were welcome to wait in my house so you could harass my best friend after a date?" Harry asked, incredulous.

Ginny entered the living room long enough to lean against the doorframe. "Let him stay, Harry. Let him see them together when they get back here. It's what he deserves."

Harry gave Ron one final look of disgust before he entered the kitchen with his wife to help her make dinner. Or, rather, so he could play with James while she cooked dinner.

**A/N: Fear not, you will see the date in the next chapter! And we will cover more of the mystery of the goblin killer!**


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